


Já Minn Konungr

by imperatorkhaleesi



Series: Moriquendi [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, like the most casual of suggestions, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperatorkhaleesi/pseuds/imperatorkhaleesi
Summary: Queen Saxa of Asgard and New Svartalfheim has a problem. After 500 years of being married, her husband Thor has started a...very inconvenient habit. And she's not sure whether she wants him to stop or not.





	Já Minn Konungr

**Author's Note:**

> Backstory and other commentary are at the end.

Saxa hates her fucking husband. The man is a fucking terror. A sexual nightmare in every sense of the word. Oh sure, his people love him, he’s intelligent and dignified and wise, _snipeshit_. The last time they had a small council meeting, Thor alternated between discussing a security breach in the Weapons Archives and fingering her while she tried to discuss the new tax and tariff policies. Heimdall had almost caught on; she’d let out a gasp when, while she was in the midst of suggesting a possible amendment, Thor’s fingers slipped into her under the desk and curled, pressing hard against her g-spot. She let out a sharp cough to cover, twisting her hips as he plunged them in and out of her. Once the conversation moved away from her, she turned her head to look at Thor; his gaze intent on their advisors at the end of the table, his fingers working in her, his thumb working her clit in circles. He looked down at her and grinned, briefly, his eyes twinkling before he gave his attention back to the harvest yields. He stayed that way, steady, smooth, and consistent, until she came, her face a mask of pensive thought; her eyes screwed shut, elbows on the table, pressing her mouth against her entwined hands to keep herself quiet. Her focus was shot for the rest of the meeting; his hand rested high on her thigh, the nail of his pointer finger drawing lazy circles on the sensitive smooth skin. 

She used to be so clear-headed and sensible. Unflappable. Steely-eyed and intent on her tasks no matter what, but now? After a half millennium of being wed? Good Vemis above, all he had to do was lay a single finger on her, and she’d melt into his hands. She didn’t know how he did it; how he managed to stay so composed for so long. _She_ could taunt him for hours, with sly flashes of her skin, whispered words, and not move him an inch in public, but the _second_ they got behind a closed door, she’d be between him and the nearest flat surface, hands and mouths everywhere.

There was one particularly memorable night, after a celebration of Odin’s nameday, when they were newlywed; she’d worn a long, billowing, gold, almost see-through dress, the soft silk fabric floating around her when she moved. She’d caught him looking at her, once or twice, smiling softly, his eyes going over her. Every time he did, she felt a warm wave wash over her. She felt light-headed and soft. Thor had such a way of making her feel like she’s made of the finest, most delicate glass. It was a sensation she hadn’t yet become accustomed to, and one she found herself properly settling into for the first time that night. She’d started flirting, quite coquettishly, with him, from across the room, as if they were just meeting for the first time. Thor began to follow her lead; he’d catch her eye and smirk, his gaze tinted with something hot and dangerous, hot enough to make her blush and look away, as she knew she should. 

He made his way back over to her at the end of the night, when their duties were at their end, and smiled at her, his eyes drinking her in.

“Your Grace,” he murmured. Saxa curtsied in response.

“Your Grace,” she smiled. He gestured for her to twirl; she obliged.

“You look very beautiful tonight, milady.” Saxa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Milady. That’s quite forward of you, isn’t it?” Thor chuckled, then met her gaze again, his eyes soft and loving.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. If you do not find it too forward, may I escort you to your chambers?” Saxa appraised him for a moment, a smile curling her lips.

“You may.” Thor offered her his arm; she tossed part of her silk sleeve over his forearm and linked into it.

“Might I enquire after the whereabouts of your husband, Your Grace?” Saxa looked up at him, biting her bottom lip gently. “I didn’t see him tonight.”

“He’s away.” She felt Thor’s gaze on her.

“Away? For how long?”

“For however long the mood takes him to be away, I suppose,” she replied, airily.

“I should hope he returns soon, if only for your sake, Your Grace. I hate the idea of you being alone for so long.”

She waved her hand vaguely. “I find ways of occupying my time.”

“How, if you don’t mind my asking?” Saxa fell silent; Thor turned to look at her and met with a dangerous smile. His face flushed, gently, as she looked him over.

“Oh you know,” she sighed, softly. “This and that.” Thor tensed against her.

“Your Highness…if you find yourself in need of a way to occupy your time, I would be happy to be of service to you.” Thor stopped short at their quarters, in betwixt their guards. Saxa smiled softly.

“As it happens, I am in need of some companionship tonight,” she whispered softly. Thor nodded dutifully, pushing the door open and gesturing for her to step through first.

She’d barely made it through the door before Thor had her off her feet and pressed between him and the wall, his hand snaking underneath the skirt of her dress, her legs spread open wide for him, her hands tangled in his hair. Thor smirked against her open, panting mouth.

“Milady…where is your king?” Saxa legs tightened around his waist, arching her back as his fingers worked their magic against her. She whined.

“Here.”

“Who is your king?” He whispered against her neck.

“ _You_ …”

“You _what?_ ” He snarled, his gaze hot and intent on her.

“You, my king…” She whimpered.

The two of them hadn’t emerged from their bedchamber until the next evening. They’d learned quite a lot about each other that night and in the ensuing years, as a result; although she’d known before they’d wed, and been given an education that night, she’d truly learned over the course of their marriage how deep and hot his love ran for her, and how skilled he was at veiling it at opportune moments.

She still found it intensely endearing, and wildly sexy, but Thor had recently grown a fondness for getting her riled up at the most inappropriate moments, especially after he realized how easy it was for him to get a rise out of her.

She knew she needed it to stop. He was going to do it at the worst possible moment, and she wouldn’t be able to pull herself together.

And yet…

No. _No_. At dinner, with their in-laws at opposing ends of the table, fine, _maybe_. At a small council meeting, with their advisors and cabinet members present, with dignitaries from New Svartalfheim there? No.

So the next time it happened, (in the libraries, whilst discussing expanding and trading knowledge with Alfheim; he’d pulled her away from the crowd of advisors and ambassadors into a quiet, dark corner of the restricted section and dove beneath her skirts, licking and tasting her until she came, her knuckles shoved between her teeth to muffle her grunts) when Saxa managed to slink off to their quarters to pull herself together, she decided she had enough. She stripped out of her sedate, midnight blue council robes and, smirking as she chose it, pulled on his favorite dress, a long-sleeved, deep red and white number that hugged her in all the right places.

 

“Are you quite done, darling?” Thor looked up from the map spread across his desk and met her gaze. He smirked as he took her in, standing in the threshold of his open doors, the guards standing just beyond, their aides and advisors moving this way and that around the cavernous throne room behind her, working, paying them no mind.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” he murmured, rubbing his chin with one hand; the fingers of his right hand danced down Mjolnir’s handle. Saxa’s eyes followed their process before their gazes met again. Her lips curled as she strutted toward his desk, idly pushing the layers of her dress aside until her legs peeked through the waist-high slit when she walked. She caught a flash of surprise on his face before he re-composed himself.

“Are you sure?” Saxa came around the side of his desk and scooted up onto it, the soft, heavy silk fabric sliding down to reveal her crossed legs. He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes traced over her skin; he reached out to run a palm down her calf. Saxa immediately leaned out of his arm’s length.

“Ah ah,” she pointed to the still open doors. Thor bit into his bottom lip and grunted, glaring up at her. She smiled, idly kicking her legs back and forth. “We have an audience…” His eyes flickered back over to the door; his fingers wrapped around her right ankle and pulled her down and across, gripping her waist and nudging her forward until she stood, straddling his right thigh, the skirt of her heavy dress draped over his knee. His eyes met hers again, then trailed down, her beautiful neck, her delicate collarbone, down her exposed chest and sternum, framed by the plunging neckline of her dress. He reached through the slit in the skirt and wrapped his hand around the dip between her thigh and ass, squeezing it gently. His eyes flickered back to the door, a smirk rising on his lips.

“Sit,” he whispered. Saxa looked down at him, took his chin in her hands.

“No,” she sighed. She nodded toward the door in response to his look. “Let’s not risk getting caught, _Your Highness_.”

Thor didn’t respond; instead his hands came around her waist and pulled her closer to him, palms brushing down across her hips, to wrap his fingers around her thighs. He pulled her legs wider; his eyes met hers. The corner of his mouth quirked up as his fingers pushed the folds of her dress out of the way and he ran the palm of his hand down the inside of her thigh. Saxa shivered.

“I’m not risking much of anything,” he murmured; his hand crept across her thigh, his thumb leading the way back up her leg. His nail swept across the juncture between her leg and pelvis and she shivered, her eyes fluttering, threatening to close as they locked on his. “You, milady…I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you’ve put yourself in danger.”

“How have you figured that, milord?” Thor bit his lip, his left hand twisting into her silk skirts, his grip dangerously tight, his eyes tracing up from her bare upper thigh, over to her belly button, across her sternum, to her collarbone, his eyes lingering, his smile spreading wider with every inch.

“Well, my love,” he whispered; he yanked the fabric sharply toward himself; Saxa’s heart raced as she felt the right side of her dress give, ever so slightly, “you’re going to have to walk back to our quarters either nude or draped in rags, depending on how fond I feel of this dress in a few moments.”

“You’d better feel quite fond of it, because I am, and I’d quite like to be able to wear it again,” Saxa replied; her hand eased around his wrist and she sank her nails into his skin. Thor hissed, his hand loosening on the fabric. The arm in her grasp flexed, pulling her toward him. His right arm went around her waist and he stared up at her, his left fingers trailing up and down her leg.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” he murmured; his arm tightened around her waist, his other hand slipping from her fingers to between her legs, slipping into her; Saxa’s hands flattened across his shoulders.

“The door, Thor,” she sighed. He buried his face in her chest, kissing her skin, making her shake in his grip.

“I don’t care,” he groaned against her. “Open this dress.”

“No.” Thor’s fingers stopped; Saxa let out a soft whimper, her eyes meeting his. He stared up at her, his gaze sharpening.

“Your king…gave you an order,” he said, evenly. Saxa felt something hot burst in her and sink, low, to where he had his fingers buried in her. That tone, that fucking _tone_ ; anyone else dared to use that tone with her and she’d cut them down without even blinking. Thor uses it and her knees turn to jelly, slickness instantly pooling between her legs.

There weren’t many things she and Thor hadn’t tried in the time that they’d been married; they’d found things that they really liked and did them, a lot, with great enthusiasm. This new, exhibitionist streak that Thor started was simply an extension of something they’d quite enjoyed doing. In their partnership, they were equals; they worked best that way; they balanced each other out. In their bedroom, Thor quite liked to be in charge, except on special occasions, and Saxa loved to let him.

But Saxa didn’t want to fold, not right now; so she narrowed her eyes and met his look with one of her own, trying to suppress her grin.

“And your queen…said no,” she whispered back. Thor’s eyes narrowed further, he caught his lip between his teeth. His fingers whipped out of her and he rose from his seat,lifting her, and stepped forward, making to lay her across the top of his desk.

“Your Highness?” Thor immediately pivoted and set Saxa on her feet at his side. He kissed her forehead just as one of their aides tentatively stepped through the door. “Forgive me for intr—”

“Yes, you, wer—”

“Actually, I was just leaving,” Saxa deftly pivoted out of Thor’s grasp and stepped from behind the desk. She smiled at the aide, then turned and curtsied to Thor. “Your Grace.”

“Your Grace,” Thor’s tone made her freeze; she turned on shaky legs. The look in his eyes nearly made her crumble to her knees.

“Yes, Your Grace?” The corner of his mouth barely moved; if she hadn’t spent the past hundred years of her life watching every subtle quirk and twitch of his face, she would have missed it.

“We’ll continue this conversation later.”

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little while later (the [very minuscule] part of her brain that wasn’t running on an orgasm high, to be exact), Saxa had to admit that she played with something that she wasn’t quite prepared to deal with the consequences of.

Thor was feeling ruthless that night, and she had no one to blame but herself. It wasn’t even that she’d been so defiant earlier in their office; it was the fact that she’d gone out of her way to make it as difficult for them to get to this point as she possibly could.

She hadn’t joined him at dinner; instead when he’d asked after her whereabouts, their servants let him know that she’d decided to work during dinner.

After, he’d gone back to their work chambers, expecting to see her working at the desk next to his, and was instead greeted by one of their aides, informing him that she’d gone to bed a few minutes ago, but that she’d left a few things for him that absolutely needed to be looked over before tomorrow morning. Thor’s lip curled, but he smiled and sat to work, his drumming fingers the only indicator of his irritation.

When Thor arrived at their quarters later that night, already stripping out of his cape and breastplate before he was all the way through the door, he was confronted by the sight of nearly a dozen chambermaids, combing through Saxa’s closet. She was draped in a light, deep blue robe, her skin sweet-smelling and soft to the touch. She knew Thor could tell that she was naked under it, fresh from a shower; she could see it in the tight set of his jaw, the arch of his messy brow, the way he sank into the divan across from the armchair she sat in.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” she replied cheerfully. “We’ve been going through my closet to rotate the colors for a bit. I thought we’d be done sooner. Sit tight; maybe an hour or so?” Thor’s gaze burrowed into her, made her stomach flip over and over and over. Then he smiled, cheerfully and rose to his feet.

“Unavoidable, love,” he kicked off his boots, making his way to their private bath. “I’ll just have a soak and prepare myself for bed.”

When the last chambermaid left, and Saxa made her way to bed, the apartments were almost too quiet. They were shrouded in darkness, the candles and windows and skylights casting soft shadows over everything. Saxa finally slipped out of her robe and into a soft silk nightgown, tossing the water colored fabric over the chair facing the floor to ceiling window. She pulled her long twists out of their high bun and let them spill over her shoulders, pulling the covers back from the bed as she went. She sank into the sheets with a sigh.

“Your Grace?” Thor’s voice rang out from the bath. “Are we alone again?” Saxa’s stomach flipped.

“As alone as it is possible for us to be, my love,” she replied after a moment.

Silence fell. Intense, worrisome silence. Then.

“Good.” He pushed through the door, a soft snarl curling his lips, steam wafting around him.

“Thor,” she began; he gripped the edge of the top cover and slowly peeled it aside, letting out a soft exhale at the sight of her legs. He crawled onto the edge of the bed, his fingers wrapping around her ankles. “Before you do—”

Thor yanked her down toward him, her legs splayed around his waist.

“I think you’ve made your point,” Thor pulled her up and stood, his towel slipping from his waist as he went. He gripped the meatiest part of her ass and squeezed it, making her flinch against him, grinning as he pressed her between him and the window. Saxa gasped, the cold glass sending shivers up her back. He bit into her bottom lip, breathily laughing into her mouth. “I’m gonna make mine.”

Gods…this man is a fucking _terror_.

She’s been rocking, desperately, back and forth on his thigh, drenching his leg, trying to get herself off, her nails digging into his shoulders, her eyes locked on his dick, sitting high and hard against his stomach. He won’t touch her; his nails are raking across the armrest, his eyes flitting between her face and her pelvis riding up and down his thigh. 

“Thor,” her voice hitched; she let out a desperate moan, watching the tip of him begin to leak. “Please—”

“No,” his voice was strained, tight in the back of his throat. “Take your punishment, sweet.”

“Darling,” she sighed. Thor’s leg bobbed for a quick moment and Saxa let out a sharp whine.

“Take…your fucking _punishment._ ”

Saxa didn’t even know how long it’d been; she’d lost track after her fourth orgasm. She’d put up a bit of a fight when he’d started eating her out against the window some time ago, but gave up fairly quickly. Their rooms on this side looked out over Asgard; anyone who bothered to look up and look hard enough would be able to see them, something which Saxa tried to use to convince Thor to move their quarters to the other side of the palace when he became king, but he refused. Probably because he’d been planning something like this at some point, she mused. She couldn’t say she was mad about it, right this second, inches away from her gods-know-how-many-at-this point-but-maybe-ninth orgasm. The warm, melty knot in her body was about to become undone. She was almost there—

Thor’s hands found her waist; Saxa let out a furious groan. She tried, but to no avail; his hands kept her still, locked in place. His eyes met hers.

“You want to come, Your Grace?” He growled. Saxa nodded vigorously, whining as she tried to twist in his grip. “Get up.” She did. Shakily. “Turn around.” She did. “Get on your knees.” She did. “Hands on the glass.” She did. “Spread your knees.” She did. “Wider.” She did.

Saxa’s arms were shaking, when did that start? Thor’s palm skimmed across her side; a shudder rippled down her spine. She felt his torso press against her back, a palm stretch across her pubic bone, the fingers on his other hand find hers as they pressed against the glass.

“Saxa,” his voice rumbled in her ear. Her chest heaved against his arm, his massive, solid bicep. “Open your eyes.”

His gaze cut through her like a hot knife, twinkling as he took her in: flushed, shivery, lips kiss swollen, her hair in disarray, her gaze unfocused but accusatory.

“You bastard,” she sighed; his hand came around her jaw and gently turned her head to kiss her. Their eyes locked; Thor smirked against her soft inhale; as he gripped the base of himself, felt her quake around him as the tip of him pressed into her, found his teeth wrapping around her ear as he slid into her, slow and easy. “Oh…”

Thor hissed into her mouth, shuddering softly as he bottomed out.

“Darling,” he groaned. His hand wrapped around her shoulder and squeezed her to him. “Look out.”

Saxa raised her eyes to the glass, to Thor’s reflection against the blue black sky of the cosmos. He towered over her, massive, strong, and golden, his eyes tracing down her body. His hips began to move, to stroke into her, slowly winding his hips, then thrusting sharp into her, gasping against her neck.

“Oh Vemis,” she sighed, her hips followed his, her head falling back against his shoulder. His mouth found her neck, her jaw, his fingers creeping to her clit, pressing into it, rolling it between his fingers. Saxa’s arms crumpled, her elbows thudding against the glass. Thor’s arm came down, wrapped around her, kneading her breast, sliding up to her neck, his thumb brushing across her jaw, across her lip, bending into her mouth. “Thor…”

“‘Your Grace’,” he murmured; his left found it’s way into her hair and he held it, firm, pressing the side of her face into the glass, his lips ghosting against her ear. His fingers pressed against her clit and she bucked against him.

“Yes, milord,” she moaned.

“Am I your king?” He whispered. She nodded, her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes rolling backward. “Will you obey your king?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Will you give your king what he wants, whenever he wants?”

“ _Yes…_ ” She clenched around him, fidgeting in his grip as he grew faster.

“Yes, _what_?”

“Yes my king.” His mouth found her neck and he bit along the slope of it.

“If I want you to send away your chambermaids so I can fuck you as well as you deserve, what do you say?”

“ _Yes_ , my king!”

“And if I want to lay you out across my desk, with dozens of our aides at the door, and make you come until you beg me to stop, what will you say?”

“Yes, my king…” Thor laughed breathlessly in her ear.

“I don’t care who sees me taking you, my queen. I am only cautious for your sake. But if you…Ymir’s fucking _bones,_ ” he gasped. “If you’re going to tempt me in broad view of anyone, well…I am going to be far less modest…” She clenched around him again, and Thor let out a string of curses. “You’re going to come soon, aren’t you?” She nodded, vigorously, rolling her hips against him, her body twisting in his arms. “What do you say?”

“Your Grace,” she whimpered. “Please, let m…?” Thor’s fingers rolled across her clit, faster, harder, and she sucked in a ragged gasp. Saxa shook in his arms, her back arching, muscles tensing as she came, her soft, desperate sobs music to his ears as the soft velvet of her grasped and spasmed around him. He shuddered, his hand creeping down from her scalp to her shoulder blade, kissing along the nape of her neck, his cock still hard, still rolling his hips, slow, soft pants keeping time with her twitching on him.

“My queen,” he murmured. “I’m going to keep fucking you until someone sees us or one of us passes out. What do you say?”

Saxa, breathless, still shivering, peeked at him over her shoulder and smiled, the look in her eyes making him go weak in the knees.

“Yes, my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> So for context - This is happening in a world where a minority group of the Dark Elves joined Borr in the battle against Malekith. After he was defeated, Asgard helped these renegade Dark Elves establish another realm called - you guessed it! - New Svartalfheim.
> 
> Saxa is a Dark Elf and the Crown Princess of New Svartalfheim, and after a series of misadventures, she and Thor got married, and here you have it. And in typical Me™ fashion, I'm posting a short fic that happens after the events of the long fic that I haven't posted yet, but have been working on for....four? years? Yeah. Technically this fic is a spoiler, but y'know, ya girl's a mess, the thirst took over, etc.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! Because hey if you do I'll absolutely start working on the long fic again haha
> 
> Also also also, for the record, "Moriquendi" is Tolkien lore. It's a Quenya word meaning "Dark-folk," so of course I went 10000% literal, and it means dark skinned elves. The minority contingent of Dark Elves were literally dark skinned, black, to be specific. New Svartalfheim is basically Space Wakanda and oh man I do not need you guys to motivate me because I'm really excited about this fic all over again.
> 
> See you soon!


End file.
